Chapter 77

Chapter 77
## Chapter 77

“Excellent.”

Lucian fought the impulse to let a triumphant smirk graze his features.

In truth, he had no real desire to forsake Valdek just to plant roots in the North, but such a choice was only necessary if the two were mutually exclusive.

If the opportunity arose to hold both, he would seize them without a second thought.

‘The Emperor, naturally, would never permit it. If I maintained control over Valdek while reaching for the Northern throne, he would lose his mind.’

While it was accurate that the Emperor held Lucian in high regard, that affection was tethered to Lucian remaining a subservient ‘tool.’

The moment he evolved into a power capable of rivaling the Imperial Bloodline, that warmth would evaporate, and he would be labeled a traitor in the blink of an eye.

Consequently, for the present, planting a small, inconspicuous seed was sufficient.

‘When the era of total disorder arrives, I will be positioned to claim what is mine—by placing my allies now, they will instinctively flock to my side later.’

Concluding his inner monologue, Lucian gave a lighthearted laugh and made a casual gesture with his hand.

“Goodness, you are taking this far too seriously. I only spoke out of passing curiosity. As a recipient of His Majesty’s grand generosity, how could I possibly contemplate any move against the Empire?”

“….”

Despite Lucian’s dismissive explanation, Harald’s sharp eyes did not soften.

His stare seemed to pierce through Lucian, hunting for the hidden truth behind the casual remark.

Recognizing that the man required a substantive answer before he would drop the matter, Lucian gave a small shrug.

“Of course, one can never predict the whims of fate in this world. As you noted, Viscount, the Empire is currently on shaky ground. Just recently, the expedition to crush the Krepelt uprising returned in failure, suffering a massive blow to their reputation.”

“What did you say…!?”

“The Emperor is currently stifling the chaos by displaying the hidden might of the Imperial Family, but I wonder how long that facade can hold. Once a predator exhibits a single moment of vulnerability, the scavengers close in from every side. The road ahead will only grow more treacherous.”

“Mmm.”

Harald cast his eyes downward, his skin losing a bit of its color.

Just as Lucian suspected, the isolation of the North combined with the Imperial Family’s tight grip on information had kept the full gravity of the situation hidden from him.

Having tossed out such monumental news as if it were mere gossip, Lucian added a few more pointed thoughts.

“It would truly be a dark day if the Imperial Family lost the strength to restrain the prideful lords who are currently posturing. If that day comes, the North must seek its own path to endurance. Perhaps by congregating around the lineage of the former royalty and starting anew.”

“…!”

“There are no certainties here. I can promise nothing. It is merely a dreamlike scenario that may or may not manifest. Are you capable of placing your faith in that ‘someday’ and waiting?”

The act of waiting is a slow erosion of the spirit.

Even if a person makes a monumental vow, if the years pass without action, the fire of that initial resolve inevitably cools.

When Lucian challenged him on whether he could survive such a hollow wait, Harald offered a faint, knowing smile.

“I have spent much of my life becoming well-acquainted with waiting for things that never come. My time on this earth is drawing to a close regardless; I am prepared to wait until my final breath.”

It was a solemn oath that he would never turn his back on Lucian for the remainder of his life.

Satisfied with that answer, Lucian’s demeanor shifted into something more earnest.

“What are your plans regarding your lineage? Aside from that turncoat, it appears your other heirs are absent.”

“I sent my second son to reside with a trusted friend. I received word that he recently completed his Knighting Ceremony, though he has yet to pledge his Oath of Loyalty to anyone. I should summon him home.”

“Will he be willing to follow my lead?”

“He is much like me, though his spirit is far more defiant. He constantly speaks of a ‘Great North’ and yearns for the era of the old kingdom. He has been grumbling quite a bit lately about the Empire’s increasing meddling.”

“…Our personalities may differ, but we might find ourselves to be kindred spirits.”

Lucian finally understood the reason for the ‘second son’s’ absence.

Had he stayed while vocally expressing such rebellious sentiments, he would have been an easy mark for those wishing to frame the family for treason.

Harald had clearly sent him away before Torik or other adversaries could weaponize his words.

“I am inclined to agree. However, as I mentioned, people are unpredictable. He might be a better fit for you than I am, or perhaps you will find yourselves at odds.”

Therefore, if it is within your power, initiate the Great Cause while I am still here to guide it.

Once the wheels are in motion, he will follow the path without doubt or hesitation.

Lucian let out a soft chuckle at Harald, who tried to act tough while inadvertently revealing his lingering hopes.

“That is quite a daunting suggestion. You should focus on maintaining your health and living a long life, Viscount.”

“Or, you could simply move your timeline forward a bit.”

“Well, regardless of the timing, there is no downside to looking after your well-being.”

Lucian reached into his garment, produced a small glass container filled with Nectar, and set it upon the table.

Harald stared, blinking at the strange, sapphire luminescence glowing from within the glass.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“A tonic meant to fortify the body. Please, partake.”

“Good heavens. If you are insisting, I suppose I have no choice but to accept.”

With a look of lingering doubt, Harald uncorked the vial.

While it felt like a sudden attempt at bribery, the gesture was clearly rooted in kindness, so he decided to trust it.

Harald swallowed the Nectar in a single draught and leaned back, watching Lucian.

“I have taken your medicine. But regardless of its potency, time is—”

*Whoosh!*

The words died in Harald’s throat as he went rigid.

He felt a sudden surge of mana, as violent as a geothermal vent, erupting from his center and racing through every vein and vessel.

The incredible power of the liquid surged through his body like a gale, yet it brought no agony.

Instead, he felt a sense of profound clarity and renewal, as if his very soul was being scrubbed clean.

“What in the… Haaaah!”

The stunned Harald gasped out an exclamation but clamped his jaw shut as mana began to seep out.

He felt as though a single wrong word would cause the erupting energy to come pouring out of his mouth.

It was only after several tense heartbeats, once the mana had finally integrated into his system, that Harald found his voice.

“This… what in the world is this substance?”

“It is an elixir.”

“An elixir? Don’t be absurd! This is far beyond any mere potion, isn’t it!?”

“It is. It is an invention with the power to reshape the world. If you were to speak of this medicine to others, Viscount, my life would be forfeit.”

“…!”

Harald’s pupils trembled.

As Lucian had implied, this was no simple token of appreciation.

It was a volatile treasure that held the power to disrupt the balance of the entire continent.

By placing such a thing in Harald’s hands, Lucian had signaled his total and absolute confidence in him.

‘I understand now.’

A broad, genuine smile finally took hold of Harald’s face, his heart finally finding peace.

The fact that Lucian was willing to reveal such a secret was the ultimate proof that he intended to climb to the very top.

“It seems I truly must ensure I live a very long life.”

Until the day he could witness that ascent with his own eyes.

Just as Lucian, having secured Harald’s unwavering loyalty, nodded in quiet triumph—

“Viscount, My Lord. I have an urgent report.”

Raymond’s voice drifted in from the corridor.

Before Lucian could ask for clarification, Raymond provided the crucial details.

“Hugo is currently engaged in a fight with a knight from the House of Calix. I believe it would be best if you came to observe.”

—

The art of the sword is not a secret kept solely by the knightly orders.

Occasionally through a knight’s pity, or perhaps by lingering near training grounds, fragments of these styles find their way to the common folk.

Any sellsword who has survived long enough to earn a reputation is bound to have mastered a few respectable techniques.

However, regardless of the skills they scavenge, they are typically destined to fall when facing a knight who has been formally drilled.

The gap in the quality of instruction between a commoner who learned through trial and error and a knight refined by elite mentors is vast.

‘That is certainly what I was told…!’

*Clang!*

‘Then why is this commoner deflecting every single one of my attacks!’

Palmyr choked back a frustrated cry and leaped backward.

The moment his blade was parried, a sharp, stinging sensation vibrated through his hands.

Though his heavy gloves hid the damage, he was positive the skin of his palms had split.

As he gingerly flexed his throbbing fingers, a mocking voice called out from across the space.

“Your swings are losing their edge. Are you already winded?”

“Keep your mouth shut!”

Palmyr ground his teeth, glaring at Hugo, yet he lacked the nerve to lung forward.

If he persisted in his offense, he feared his hands would be permanently crippled.

In the worst-case scenario, his career as a knight would be over.

‘But I cannot retreat now…!’

An elite knight admitting he was bested by a simple Squad Leader? And in the heart of the North?

It wouldn’t just be the end of his career; he would be forced to live in permanent shame, never able to show his face in society again.

Palmyr was paralyzed by indecision, trapped in a corner, when—

“What a pathetic display. A knight cowering and backing away from a Squad Leader.”

Recognizing the voice, Palmyr snapped his head around.

Sure enough, Lucian was standing there, observing the scene.

Grabbing at the chance to save face, Palmyr yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Lord Lucian! Where is your sense of honor!”

“….”

“I arrived to speak with you, and yet your soldier attacked me without warning or provocation! Is this by your command, Lord Lucian? Is this how Valdek treats its guests!?”

At Palmyr’s outburst, the surrounding crowd began to whisper amongst themselves.

Lucian scanned the area for a moment, then calmly folded his arms across his chest.

Assuming that Lucian was paralyzed by the public embarrassment, Palmyr’s lips twisted into a smirk.

“Give me an answer! Is this your will? Or the reckless insubordination of a lowly soldier!?”

“…..”

“If this was your command, you must answer for this insult! If it was the soldier acting on his own, then he must be punished immediately!”

Despite the arrogant shouting, Lucian didn’t even blink.

He stood in silence, merely observing Palmyr with a cold, detached expression.

Just as Palmyr was preparing to launch into another tirade during the heavy silence—

“What are you waiting for? Continue the fight.”

“…What?”

“Were you not in the middle of a struggle with my Squad Leader? You can scream all you like, but I don’t see why you’ve stopped moving. Hugo!”

“Yes, My Lord!”

“If your opponent loses focus in the middle of a battle, you should simply strike him down. Why are you standing there letting him talk? Pick up your weapon!”

“…!?”

Terrified by the order, Palmyr spun back to face Hugo.

Hugo had already settled back into a combat stance and was closing the distance with predatory slowness.

He looked perfectly willing to end Palmyr’s life if he failed to defend himself.

“L-Lord Lucian! What is the meaning of this madness!”

“Silence yourself and fight. I don’t care who ends up on top, we will talk once the dust has settled. I do not allow anyone to flee from a challenge.”

“This isn’t a challenge! This is a— Gah!”

*Claaaaang!*

Palmyr barely managed to intercept Hugo’s driving strike and was thrown back.

The agony in his hands was now blinding, as if the earlier wounds had been ripped wide open.

Just as Palmyr tried to speak through the pain—

“If you surrender or run, I will kill you myself.”

“…!”

“Deception won’t save you here. Don’t even think about escaping the consequences. You will either depart carrying the weight of your loss, or you will be put in the dirt. Make your choice.”

The icy finality of the threat made Palmyr’s blood run cold.

He thought he had found an exit, but it was nothing more than a mirage.

Lucian had no intention of releasing him until he chose between a death of his reputation or a death of his body.

A wave of bitter regret flooded Palmyr’s mind.

‘If only I had come up with a better excuse to put my sword away… if only I had faked an injury and collapsed…!’

In the midst of his spiraling thoughts, Palmyr finally grasped the truth.

There would have been no trouble at all if he hadn’t tried to exert his authority over Lucian in the first place.

Regrettably, that epiphany arrived far too late.

*Clang!*

“Aaaagh!”

His blade, sent spiraling by the force of the next impact, flew high into the air.

Simultaneously, blood began to drip from his gloves as the skin of his palms was completely shredded.

It wasn’t that Hugo had found a gap in his defense or used a secret maneuver to disarm him.

It was the undeniable proof that he had lost a raw contest of power and couldn’t even handle the vibration of the steel clashing.

“Ah….”

*Clatter.*

Palmyr didn’t even make a move for his discarded weapon as he looked at the faces around him.

The crowd was now staring down at him, their eyes filled with nothing but pure loathing.

In a scene that was the exact opposite of Lucian’s own legendary duel, Palmyr collapsed to his knees, his face a mask of total defeat.